Amelia.
By the time I finished getting ready that morning, my nerves were already a mess.
I stood in front of the mirror longer than necessary, smoothing my palms over the front of my dress for what had to be the tenth time. The soft navy fabric fit perfectly, elegant without trying too hard, but I still found myself searching for flaws anyway.
A wrinkle.
A stain.
Anything that could justify the tightness in my chest.
My gaze drifted downward again.
The engagement ring glittered beneath the bedroom lights.
Even now, I still wasn’t used to seeing it on my finger.
Every few seconds, I caught myself staring at it like my brain still expected someone to take it away.
Outside, somewhere beyond the gates of the penthouse, paparazzi had apparently been waiting since sunrise.
The though
